Page 35 of Demon Kissed
Shaking my head, I turn slightly towards Adam, who is sprawled across the couch. His chest rises and falls with his steady, even breathing, and love for him blossoms in my chest.
Smiling softly, I climb out of the armchair, taking a moment to stretch out my taut muscles before bending down to scoop Adam up. There’s going to be a point when he becomes too heavy for me to do this, but for now, I’ll savor these precious moments. His head lolls on my shoulder as his tiny hands fist in my shirt.
“Katty?” he whispers drowsily, voice muffled from where his face is flush against my neck.
“Time for bed, Adam.”
After having him brush his teeth and change into pajamas, I tuck him in. He’s out before I can even cover him with the quilt, and I take a moment to stare at his sleepy, angelic face. How long until my parents smother his innocence like they did mine? How much longer can I protect him from that, from them? I vow to myself, right then and there, that I’ll be his sword and his shield for however long he lets me. Planting a tender kiss on his forehead, I make sure that his nightlight is still on before creeping out of the room on silent feet.
I still have a dozen or so more study cards to get through. And I wanted to get started on the upcoming English paper. And I need to—
An eardrum-rupturing crash reverberates from the kitchen. My muscles lock together as I freeze on the stairs, one hand gripping the rail as fear pounds through me. I can hear my heart roaring in my chest, drowning out my thoughts, as I remain rooted in place. I’m not even sure I’m breathing.
And then…
“Turtle dove!” Akor appears around the corner, his vibrant pink mohawk belying the wicked, mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re here!”
I hurry down the rest of the stairs, one finger already on my lips as I shush him.
“Adam is sleeping,” I hiss, glancing over his shoulder where all of the other demons are lounging around my living room.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—
“What are you doing here?” I continue, interrupting my internal rant. I’m not gonna lie, mixed in with the annoyance at seeing them is a heavy dose of fear too. Both emotions circle and hiss at one another like a nest of slithering snakes that reside in my stomach.
They’re in my house.
Alone.
With Adam.
Again.
Icy dread skates down my spine as I force myself to meet Akor’s stare with a defiant one of my own. I was fine when we were at school and they were attempting to take over my life. That’s different—I’m the only person they’re bothering. But to come to my house? Again? That familiar fear I felt when I first met them returns with a vengeance. Because they’re still demons, still bad guys, and try as I might, it’s impossible for me to forget. The last thing I want is to get Adam involved in their…crazy.
Akor’s lips twitch as if he’s privy to my inner thoughts. Which is ridiculous, obviously. Demons can’t read minds, can they? Definitely not. Right?
Someone please say I’m right, for my own mental sanity.
“We’re going to party!” Akor throws his head back and rips down the middle of his shirt. I immediately tear my gaze away from his lean, muscular chest covered in hundreds of intricate tattoos.
“We’re not having a party here!” I exclaim immediately, shoving past him and into the living room. I can hear Akor trotting at my heels like an obedient, besotted puppy.
Though…
I’m quite sure he’ll kill me if he knows I’m mentally comparing him to a puppy.
Please don’t be a mind reader. Please don’t be a mind reader.
“Get out of my house,” I say immediately, firmly, placing my hands on my hips.
All of the men are sprawled on various seats around my living room. It seems almost…odd to have them in such a location. They always act as if they’re larger than life, more important than both Heaven and Hell combined. They possess an arrogance and imperiousness that others would kill to have. So seeing them in such a mundane setting? With legs thrown over couch arms? Flicking through the channels on my television? It’s weird as fuck.
Van casts me a bored, almost lazy stare. His brown eyes, that auburn hair, the scruff on his jaw… He’s so fucking beautiful that I physically have to wrench my head to the side to keep from staring at him like a freak. If I had to show a picture of the most beautiful man in the world, I would one hundred percent, without a doubt show a picture of Van Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is.
Do demons even have last names? Unless all of their last names are Dämon…
Clearing my throat awkwardly, I focus first on Zolroth perching daintily on the edge of my sofa. Out of all the demons, he looks as if he fits in the best here. He’s immaculately groomed, as always, in a form-fitting black suit and abnormally shiny shoes. Seriously, I can see my reflection in those things. He embodies a grace and elegance that isn’t seen in the other demons—though I’ll never admit that to his face. He already seems to have a pretty big head. Probably on both ends.
